Healing Process
by Frannie Grace
Summary: As everyone starts to get better, things take a turn for the worse. (Sequel to "Girls Hit Back")


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Disclaimer: JAG isn't mine. None of the characters from Mr. Bellisario's imagination are mine, and I still promise to return them almost completely unharmed once this line of thought known as a series of stories ends. J

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Author's Notes: Kansas and Alan are mine, and does anyone else find it slightly scary that I've invented my own spook? :P

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Healing Process

"Ow."

Kansas gripped the bars tighter and took a few more steps. "I understand the need for physical therapy, but must it hurt this much?"

"Pain is beauty."

"I'll give you pain, Clayton."

Clayton just smiled and leaned back in the chair against one wall of the physical therapy room in St. Peter's. Kansas was more than welcome to complain all she wanted. It was a sign she was getting better.

The therapy had begun the week before, and the good little Marine in the redhead had taken the task as an assignment. She'd been quiet and bit back complaints. When she finally started mouthing off, Clayton knew she was healing.

//At least physically.//

He tried to block out the slight flinch Kansas had shown when Alan had gone to grasp her shoulder. //Alan was almost on the floor apologizing. He's not used to her being so scared. *I'm* not used to her being so scared.//

Kansas stumbled and cursed under her breath.

//I'm not used to her being so helpless either. God grant me the strength to get through this.// He sighed under his breath and leaned his head back. Deep down, he still wished he hadn't told Kansas that it was Palmer who had attacked her. All that had done was give her a reason to glance over her shoulder.

//Nothing like having a man who can be anyone attacking you because of who you keep company with.// Clayton snorted in disgust. //Or attacking you because he's in the company.//

"Just give me two more tries at walking the bars, and I'll let you go, Major." The physical therapist smiled at Kansas.

"Just give me two more weeks, and I'll break your arm for making me do this."

//Ah, the tired Marine needs reinforcements.// 

Standing, Clayton walked over to the twosome. The PT was a man of about thirty with caramel-colored hair and an olive complexion that was going surprisingly pale at Kansas' threat. "It's best to ignore her when she's like this. Just give it as an order."

The PT raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" He'd seen the other man in the room everytime they'd brought Major McWilliams in, but this was the first time he'd been spoken to by Clayton.

"She's a Marine. She'll take an order more readily then a request."

"What about the arm-breaking?"

Clayton waved it off. "Basic threatening they all use."

"Excuse me, Gentlemen," Kansas' voice dripped with sarcasm. "If you hadn't noticed, not only am I in the room, but I can hear every word you say, and I outrank both of you." She glared at them. "Can I just get this over with and go home to a hot bath, please?"

The PT nodded. "Sure, turn it around and start over then."

Kansas grumbled something about 'smart-ass hospital workers' and started down the other way. "She's a piece of work."

"She's a Marine."

"That's true." The PT held his hand out to Clayton. "Eric Kingston."

"Clayton Webb." Webb shook his hand. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Four years, and she's the toughest and worst I've seen."

"Worst?"

Eric gestured to Kansas' leg. "That break, plus her other injuries; they're bad. I'm surprised she came out of it still herself."

//She didn't really.// "Yeah, but she's tough."

Eric laughed. "So I noticed. Mind if I ask what happened? I find that a little background on the injuries can go a long way in helping the patient."

"She lost a fight with a metal baseball bat."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"I noticed you had scars on your wrist when you shook my hand."

Clayton glanced down to his arm. He barely noticed the scars from his attack anymore, although they were noticeable to anyone who glanced at them. The skin was still shades pinker than the surrounding skin, and it was obvious that the marks followed the main vein of the arm.

"Those would be an occupational hazard."

"You cut yourself open a lot?"

"I didn't do it."

Eric gave him a look. "Someone attacked you, too? I'm starting to see a pattern develop."

"Something like that, yeah." Clayton watched Kansas turn around. "How's she doing with all this therapy?"

"She wants out of the wheelchair bad enough to work harder than she probably should, but I'm keeping her at a safe level. Unfortunately, she's in that wheelchair for another couple of months."

"That long?"

"Femur breaks are rare, and it's best to be careful when you're waiting for the bone to heal around the metal rod. She can switch to crutches in about a month, but the wheelchair will be easier to get around with. Where does she work?"

"Falls Church at the JAG offices."

Eric's eyebrows raised again. "She's a lawyer?"

"Yes."

"Good-looking lawyer."

Clayton had a sudden urge too cold-cock the man next to him. "Lawyer in a relationship." 

*

"I just want a hot bath, a tuna sandwich, and a chance to sit around and do nothing for a few minutes." Kansas tried to resettle in the car seat and flinched as it put extra pressure on her leg and ribs.

"Quit fidgeting." Clayton slowed for a stop sign. "You're still healing up. Take it easy."

"Yes, Harm."

"That's not funny."

She tucked some hair behind her ear. "Neither is telling the PT that I'm in a relationship."

//I'm going to be killed.// "He was ogling you."

"You're not my protector, Clayton."

//I'm going to be tortured then killed.// "I worry about you."

"I can handle myself."

"Then why did you flinch when Alan touched you yesterday?"

"I did not flinch!"

//Tortured, killed, and hung up inside-out for the townspeople to see.// "Yes, you did. We both saw it. You're still scared."

"A completely insane man who can disguise himself as anyone he wants attacked me and left you a message saying he wished he'd finished the job. I think being scared is allowed." Kansas glanced over at him. "And you shouldn't talk."

"Me?"

"At least I'm attempting to get over this. You still won't talk about what happened when *you* were almost killed."

"I deal with it."

"You block it out until the nightmares get so bad you can't do anything but scream."

"I don't have nightmares."

"Liar."

Clayton looked over to her and pulled into the parking garage of Kansas' apartment building. "We're here."

"I can make it up myself."

"You can't get your wheelchair out on your own."

She leaned back into the seat hard and winced again as her ribs protested. "Damnit."

"I thought so." Clayton stepped from the car, lifted the trunk lid, and opened up the wheelchair with the ease of two weeks of practice. He wheeled it around and held out a hand to help Kansas from the car.

It was ignored as Kansas put one hand on the car door and the other on the arm of the chair. She lifted herself into it and cursed under her breath as she got settled. "Look, I did it all by myself."

"I'll give you a lollipop when we get to your place."

"Leave me alone, Clayton." Kansas moved to wheel herself, but Clayton pushed her hands away.

"You can't honestly think you're capable of leaning forward to wheel yourself anywhere with your ribs taped."

"Go away, Clayton."

He started to push her towards her apartment again. "You shoved me away once, I'm staying with you through this."

Kansas tipped her head back at him, glared, but said nothing. 

They rode the elevator in silence and entered Kansas' apartment with radiating tension. Kansas slid onto her couch and groaned. Clayton looked over as he headed to the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"Sure, if you discount the broken ribs, broken leg, and concussion I'm dealing with. I'm just peachy."

"Do you want tea?"

"Yes."

He finished his trek to the kitchen and moved around preparing everything. //Nice to know I don't have to ask where anything is.// The water was set to boil, and Clayton pulled the teabags from the cupboard above the sink.

"Ow."

//She's never going to stay still.// "If you need something, I'll get it for you."

"You know I could hire an in-home aid until I get around."

Clayton came into the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. "You could, but they'd never find anything with the organization you claim to have around here."

Kansas smiled slightly, and felt herself relax as their banter got back onto familiar ground. "This coming from someone who had to have his cupboards labeled by his girlfriend."

He smiled back at her and moved over on the couch, lifting her injured leg and settling it across his thighs. "I miss that girlfriend."

"I miss labeling your cupboards, but if we don't talk through all the hell that's been thrown at us, we're not going to be able to be a couple anymore than we were when we broke up."

Clayton sighed and leaned his head back. "I know." He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "Where do we start?"

"You get to start."

"Says who?"

"Says the lawyer."

"I'd love to hear the argument that goes along with that."

Kansas surpressed a smile and gave him a look. "You get to go first because you won't talk about it unless you do."

//I hate that she knows me so well.// "Where should I start?"

"Most people usually start at the beginning."

Clayton wanted to stick out his tongue, but he held back. //Dignity before you dump her in an ice bath.// "I've told you what happened."

"You've told me why it happened. You never told me how you coped with it."

"I coped with it like I always do."

"You ignored it and lived with the nightmares?"

"Yes."

Kansas sighed. "Clayton, why don't you ever talk about what happens to you on assignments?"

"It's classified."

"The assignment is classified; what happened to you is something you need to talk about."

He tried to find the right way to retaliate. "You need to talk about what happened to you."

"And I have been, but you haven't."

"I'd rather forget."

"You mean you'd rather repress it until the nightmares go away."

Clayton cursed in his head. //This is not how I imagined us having this conversation.// "Can't we talk about this later?"

Kansas shifted and managed to push herself up off the couch. "We seem to always talk about everything later." She grabbed her crutches from where they leaned against the wall by the hallway and tucked them under her arms, ignoring the pain it caused in her ribs. "Just leave, Clayton. If you're going to avoid it, I don't know why you're here."

"Because I need to be here."

"No, you don't."

"If I'm not here, you could get hurt again."

Halfway to her bedroom, Kansas stopped and tried to remember to breathe. That last sentence had been spoken so matter-of-factly, but she heard the underlying concern in it. She pivoted around as best she could and almost fell backwards when she realized Clayton was two steps away. "God, don't do that!"

He took hold of one of her arms to steady her. "Sorry."

"I'm okay, just don't do that."

"I thought you heard me come down the hall."

"I'm not talking about that."

For a minute, there was silence, and then Clayton's eyes broke from Kansas' to stare at the end of the hall. "You don't want me to say I'm scared for you?"

She nodded and stared over his shoulder at a picture on the living room wall.

"Why not?"

"Because you do the work that makes people scared."

"Because of my work you got hurt."

Kansas looked up at him. "You think Palmer attacking me was *your* fault?"

Clayton nodded very slowly. He could hear the disbelief in Kansas' voice.

"You have got to be joking if you think this is your fault! Just because Palmer has a grudge against you, you assume he did it to get to you. For all you know it was a roundabout way for him to remind all of us that he's still out there."

"If that were true, then why did he leave the note on my door?"

"Because you're the closest one to me, and he knew you would react the way you did." 

"I just can't understand why he'd leave a note. It's not Palmer's style."

"Maybe the insanity we all knew he had is coming into bloom for him finally."

"Maybe I should have killed him when he went after the super-conductor."

Kansas touched his arm, and waited for him to look at her. "You realize that it didn't have to be Palmer that attacked me; anyone could have done it."

"I know, but with Palmer it's like I had salt poured into a surgical incision." Clayton gritted his teeth and thumped the wall next to him with the side of his fist.

"Don't do that. The last time you hit something with that hand I had to bandage it while balancing on the statue."

"No one asked you to climb up there. You could have gotten me down."

"Sure, and I could have streaked naked through the streets of DC, too, but I wasn't going to chance that either."

Clayton laughed. "There's an image."

"One that could have been caught on film, most likely." Kansas laughed too. "It would certainly beat out the picture of the guy in Harm's dress whites."

Another laugh as Clayton remembered that picture in the paper. "I have that in a scrapbook."

"You what?"

"Rabb thinks I'm out to get him, so I keep anything I could use as blackmail."

"Everyone in DC and on base has seen that picture."

He shrugged. "I'm hoping his next girlfriend is from out-of-state."

Kansas laughed again, and then suddenly doubled over. "Oh, God."

Clayton dipped down and slid an arm under Kansas' knees, the other went around her shoulders, and he carried her to the bedroom carefully. "You stood up and leaned to long. When you laughed your ribs couldn't take it."

"No--kidding." She was gasping for air as Clayton settled her on the bed.

He lifted her shirt and examined the bandages around her lower torso. "They got pulled loose. I'm going to tighten them, hold still."

"Son of a-"

Clayton cut her off. "Don't insult the doctor."

"The doctor's lucky I'm not pulling his hair out. Ah!"

Another adjustment, and Clayton brought his head up. "All better." He saw her face relax and her eyes slipped close. She was exhausted. "You need to get some sleep."

"I know." Kansas readjusted her pillow and closed her eyes. "I'll see you later, Clayton."

He stood to leave and was almost to the door of her room when she spoke again.

"We're still going to talk."

*

Clayton walked into his office the next morning and barely nodded to the man in the chair behind his desk. He hung up his suit jacket, set down his briefcase and tried to work the kinks out of his back.

"You sleep on the couch again?" Alan had his feet propped up on the left corner of his friend's desk and was holding a picture in his hand.

"Yes. Get your feet off my desk."

Alan didn't move his feet, but he held out the picture. "This came in this morning." 

Reaching across the desk, Clayton took the picture. He cursed under his breath and resisted the urge to put the photograph through the paper shredder on the right side of his desk. "How did this get here?"

"It was dropped off by messenger about half an hour ago."

"Was there anything else with it?"

"A note with another note. The first one said that you had to be the one to decrypt the second one."

"Damnit." Clayton stared at the picture again and tossed it onto the desk. "How did he get in?"

"He's a master of disguise, Clayton; he could have been anyone. Hell, he could have been in there with you, and you wouldn't have known it."

"Don't remind me."

"Sorry." Alan picked the photo up and felt his stomach twist. It showed Clark Palmer lying in the hospital bed next to Kansas. His face was gleeful, but it was a scary gleeful.

"Where's the note?"

Alan handed it to him without comment. He knew better than to argue the point of letting someone else handle this. "Here. Have a blast. I'm going to set up some surveillance around Kansas' apartment."

"Go see her, but don't tell her about any of this."

"You expect *me* to lie?"

"Don't lie; just don't mention it." Clayton sat in his chair and started poring over the paper in front of him.

"I'll see you later, Clayton." Alan wasn't surprised when he got no response. He wasn't really expecting one.

*

Kansas hobbled to the door and checked the peephole. The distorted face of Alan looked back at her. "Just a sec, Alan. I'm a little unsteady."

"That's fine; I'll just stare at the wallpaper."

The door opened, and Kansas gave the blonde a look. "I wouldn't if I were you. It's absolutely hideous."

Alan took another glance at it. "Yeah, it is." He stepped inside. "How are you?"

"Beaten, bruised, and battered. Yourself?"

"Overworked, underpaid, and worried about you."

Kansas raised her eyebrows as she shut the door. "Why are you worried about me?"

"Because you're pushing people away."

"Alan-"

He held up a hand. "Just hear me out, okay?"

"Will it get you to leave sooner?"

"No. I did come with a reason other than playing therapist."

"Why'd you come?"

Alan sat on the couch and looked at Kansas. She was tired and looked to be extremely sore. "To make your day a little brighter."

"Why'd you come?"

He sighed. So much for joking around. "I'm setting up surveillance around your place."

"Why?"

"Because you were attacked by Clark Palmer."

"That was weeks ago. No one's heard from him since." Her eyes got wide as a thought struck her. "Alan, reassure me that you haven't heard from him.

"I haven't heard from him."

"Now make it sound halfway believable."

//So much for keeping my mouth shut. Sorry, Clayton.// "A photograph and an encrypted note came into headquarters today through the fax machine."

"What was the picture?"

"It showed Palmer lying next to you in the hospital when you were still unconscious."

"Oh, God." Kansas leaned an arm against the wall to get her balance. "Oh, God."

Alan jumped up and hurried over to her. "You should sit down."

"I should." She allowed him to lead her to the couch and sit her down.

Cogan sat on the coffee table and got eye-to-eye with her. "If he had wanted to kill you, he could have done it while you were unconscious."

"He doesn't kill unless it's an order. He's screwing with me, Alan."

"A wilderness of mirrors."

Kansas nodded. "He wants to distort my reality by letting me know he can always be in it. He's done the same thing to Harm and to Clayton when-" She stopped and reached for the phone.

"Kansas, what are you doing?"

She ignored him and held the phone to her ear. "Clayton Webb, please."

*

Clayton stared at the note, looking for a loophole. //Every code has a loophole. Just find the hole.// He went over the letters he had already, they were all in the first row, and they were all vowels. "What's his tell? Every person who makes up a code has a tell."

He thought back to his training. All codemakers had a tell; something they did so the code was uniquely theirs. //What would Palmer do to make the code his? He's a perfectionist, a master of disguises, he can change personalities in two seconds. Change.//

Rolling his chair down his desk, he faced the computer. After logging into the code database he typed in 'Chameleon Code' and waited as it searched.

The Chameleon Code was relatively new. It consisted of changing the numbers used in place of letters for every new line of writing. It was an involved process to write, and it was an even longer process to decode. Luckily, Clayton had sources to rely on.

His intercom buzzed, and he hit the button impatiently. "Yes?"

"You have a call from the outside on line three, Mr. Webb."

"Thanks." He picked up the receiver and hit the proper button to transfer the call. "Webb."

"Were you planning to tell me that Palmer had contacted the Agency, or should I be grateful that Alan tripped over his tongue?"

//Okay, I'm dead.// "What are you talking about?"

"Alan just came over and told me he was setting up surveillance because Palmer attacked me *three weeks ago*, and then he didn't deny it when I asked if he had contacted you. So, were you going to keep me in the dark?"

Kansas was fuming, Clayton could tell, and he tried to think of a way to settle the argument without getting his head blown off by one very angry Marine. Unfortunately, any training he had on how to talk people down from killing disappeared as he heard her tone.

"How could you not tell me that he had contacted you? Do you have some incapability to communicate with me when my life is on the line?"

"Don't bite my head off, McWilliams; all I'm doing is following protocol. Protocol that disallows information leaking out when it's something as severe as Clark Palmer."

"So screw whoever's getting threatened and play with your toys?"

"No, keep safe whoever's getting threatened by letting them believe they are safe. Not to mention you're in no mental condition to handle news like this." Clayton clenched his teeth in frustration. 

"I understand." It was a voice dripping in sarcasm. "You're keeping me safe by giving me false security, so when I turn around and get my head blown off by Palmer, I'll only have that one moment of fright instead of weeks of wondering when he'll be there and protecting myself accordingly. You're right, Clayton. That's much better."

He tried to respond, but the line went dead as Kansas slammed down the phone. //So much for a civil conversation.// Clayton set his own phone back in the cradle and tipped his head back. The computer beeped, and he looked over at the search results:

'137 Results Found for 'Chameleon Code'

"And the day just keeps getting better."

*

Kansas felt the vibration as the receiver slammed home and turned to find a very startled Alan watching her. "What?"

"I'm just wondering if you bite off his whole head or maybe left the neck as a reminder to the next person to make you mad."

"He's treating me like I'm just a victim, Alan."

"Kansas, you are a victim."

She glared at him, her eyes brightening dangerously. "But I'm not some nameless, faceless person getting harassed by Palmer. I'm-I'm-" 

Alan saw the struggle go across her face. //She's not sure where she stands with him.// "You're the one person he trusts completely, and he's in love with you. Protection is part of the relationship for both of you."

Her face had softened slightly, but she still looked angry. "I don't protect him by not giving him information that could save his life."

"But you protect him in your way. You make sure he knows you're around."

"This is sounding like a bad piece of fiction."

Alan raised his eyebrows. "What is?"

"Boy meets girl. Girl almost loses boy. Boy and girl break up. Boy almost loses girl."

"But no girl has ever given the boy a black eye."

Kansas looked up at Alan and sighed in defeat. "He should have told me."

"Be honest, Kansas. Do you really want to know that the man who almost killed you is tormenting Clayton with pictures and notes?"

"No."

"Then be defensive if it helps, but talk to him when it's done. I have to go check to see how the surveillance is coming." Alan walked to the door.

"I'm still in love with him."

"You wouldn't get so angry if you weren't." With a smile of understanding, Alan left.

*

137 Search Results found for 'Chameleon Code'

Clayton stared at the screen and cursed under his breath. He just needed a simple decoder so he could figure out what Palmer was torturing him with this time. There was a knock on the door, and he hissed a breath out through gritted teeth.

"*What*?!"

Harm's head came through the crack of the door as he pushed it open. "You got a minute?"

"No."

"It's about Kansas."

"Close the door." Clayton swiveled his chair to face Harm. "What is it?"

"I was going through Kansas' files trying to split up her cases until she comes back, and I found this." He handed a file folder across the desk to Clayton. "I thought you'd find it important."

Clayton picked up the folder and flipped it open. A half-dozen pictures fell into his lap, and there were loose-leaf papers clipped to the folder cover. On the other side an envelope was taped down.

He picked up the pictures first and looked them over. The first two were shots of Clayton in candid poses. One had him on his couch, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and his feet bare, and he was laughing at the camera. The other was a picture of him in his office, one he never realized Kansas had taken. His face was tense, the suit was perfectly creased, and he was glaring at a file deep in thought.

Clayton flipped the pictures over. "Clayton at play. Clayton at work."

"What?"

"Nothing, Rabb."

The other four pictures were from various stages of Clayton and Kansas' relationship. One showed them at their usual table at "The Oka", both of them smiling at the camera; next was them at a party held by Porter, Clayton was at the barbecue with Kansas leaning against him pointing to the grill. One of them at a ball at an Embassy, and the last was the same as the eight-by-ten on Clayton's desk-the two of them were sitting on top of the Einstein statue, sun glinting off the metal, and their smiles were wide.

He dropped the pictures on to the desk and unclipped the loose-leaf papers. On the first page was a list:

    1. He's arrogant
    2. He's incorrigible
    3. He's sneaky
    4. He's self-serving
    5. He doesn't give up his emotions
    6. He believes he's always right

The paper joined the pictures, at least they were supposed to be on his desk. Clayton looked up at Harm. "You mind?"

"I saw them already; I just wanted another look."

"Snoop much, Rabb?"

"Not as much as you, Clay."

Webb glared at him a moment. "Don't let the door hit you."

Harm raised his eyebrows but showed no other surprise at the venom in Webb's tone. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Rabb." Clayton heard the door click shut, but he was concentrating to hard on the next two pieces of paper to take time to look up.

'Clayton and I stopped dating last night. I was the one who made it stop.'

He glanced at the date. It was the day after Kansas had left him sitting at a table staring at the check after she had told him the relationship was over.

'He won't talk about when he was almost killed by Jerry Patten. I've tried to ask questions, but he closes up completely whenever it's mentioned. Sometimes I wish I could put him in the witness box for a couple of hours. It seems like the only way to get him to acknowledge what happened.

I've talked to Porter at least a dozen times since it happened, and she says he's not opening to her either. Of course, Porter isn't to fond of what I did to make Clayton work through his residual problems.

I could have fallen for a doctor, a lawyer, hell, I could have fallen in love with anyone, but I fell in love with Clayton Webb, and I don't think I can stop.'

Clayton skimmed the rest of the papers and reclipped them to the folder. It was all a long one-sided conversation Kansas had written down to sort out her thoughts.

The envelope was the only thing left that Clayton hadn't read. He pulled it off the folder and slit it open. Four sheets of paper were inside, and a key was taped to the top of the first one. Kansas' somewhat flowy handwriting covered the sheets.

Clayton-

It's the day after I got out of the hospital, and you dropped me off here at the office telling me I shouldn't' come in today.

He grimaced, remembering the battle royale that they'd had over her going in so soon to sort things out.

I'm not here sorting files, if you're reading this you know that. I came in to write this letter. I know Harm or Mac will search my files when they're splitting up my cases, and one of them will bring this to you.

//Good call.//

"I think I'll stop babbling and make the point behind this letter.

I love you.

Yes, Clayton, I know you know that, but there's more to it. 

You can't always protect me.

Somehow you got the theory that in your head that even if I was exposed to what you did, I wouldn't be used as a bargaining chip.

You're not invincible, and you're not completely without emotion, you can be scared for me, but I can't have it interfere with the life I have and want.

I want you in my life like before, Clayton. I want to hug you and have you threaten waiters at restaurants, but if punches are thrown, you need to understand that I can hit back.

You also have to talk to me when all hell breaks loose, and trust me enough to know I won't run away from whatever happens. I'll talk to you about Palmer attacking me. You need to hear it. I know that.

The key is to my apartment. I'm getting new locks. Probably by the time you read this they'll have been in for a couple of weeks, but since you gave me back my key when we stopped dating, I doubt you'll notice.

The key is yours if you're willing to open up and let me do the same.

I love you.

-Kansas

Clayton refolded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and closed the file folder. He sat it on the edge of his desk and leaned back in his chair for a minute.

//She still loves me.//

Sighing, he turned back to the computer.

137 Search Results Found for Chameleon Code

*

Alan stood outside Kansas' apartment building and watched the glass double-doors that opened to the balcony.

//Someone could use those doors to their advantage. Have to double-check the lock system.//

He grabbed another agent as he strolled by. "I need you to make sure those doors are secure at all times."

The agent nodded and paused as he pondered a question. "Why does this woman get so much attention?"

"Major McWilliams was almost beaten to death by Clark Palmer. We're taking precautions."

"From what I hear, Commander Rabb has almost been killed, too."

"True, but how many times has Palmer done something so simple as a beating? He's usually much more low-key." Alan gave the other man a meaningful look. "Go check the doors."

"Yes, Sir."

*

Kansas looked up from her book when someone knocked on the door. "Alan, go away."

"Ma'am, it's Agent Lexington, I was sent up to check the balcony doors."

"They're fine."

"Ma'am, if Agent Cogan doesn't see me in front of those doors in two minutes he's likely to send in a swat team."

Kansas groaned and pushed herself up off the couch. She hobbled across the room and unlocked the door. "Come on in."

Lexington moved past her and over to the balcony doors that were next to the kitchen. "You've got some heavy security, Ma'am."

"Yeah, I'm lucky that way." Kansas watched him look over the door and felt suddenly nervous. For some reason he made her uneasy.

"Palmer sounds like a very dangerous man."

"You sound like that interests you." Kansas leaned against the kitchen counter and slid a hand over to grasp the cordless phone.

"No need for the phone, Major McWilliams, I cut the line on the way up."

Kansas gripped it harder. "I wasn't going to call anyone, Palmer." She watched him turn around and take a step nearer to her. "I was going to throw it at you."

The phone moved across the open air and slammed into Palmer's temple. He slumped to the floor.

*

"Finally!"

Clayton's muttered exclamation of relief was quickly followed by his decoding of the message from Palmer. It had taken half an hour of whittling down the search results, but he had found a code-breaker in the mix.

Years of cryptography practice had the code into actual words. He felt his stomach drop as he read the de-crypted note.

Give my regards to your false identity capabilities, Webb.

Agent Lexington is a fun role. I hope I get to 'protect' Kansas.

Clayton grabbed his phone and hit the speeddial. 

"The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. The number-"

He slammed down the phone and pushed his chair back so hard it bounced off the wall. Grabbing his holster and suit jacket, he ran out the door.

//If he's hurt her I'll shoot him between the eyes.//

*

Palmer slumped to the floor, unconscious, the edge of the phone had cut the latex of his mask and blood was coming from an opening at his temple.

Kansas moved backward into the kitchen and reached for the drawer nearest the stove. Her personal revolver was in the back, and she pulled it out, checking the chamber as she went.

Next to her revolver was her cell phone. She pushed the power button and dialed.

One ring. Two..

"What?!"

"Clayton, Palmer's here." Kansas was taken aback at the matter of factness in her own voice.

"I know. I'm on my way over."

"How do you know?"

"I got his message decoded. I'm halfway there. Where is he?"

"Unconscious on my kitchen floor."

"What'd you do?"

"Threw the cordless at him." Kansas watched Clark shift and raised her revolver. "He's moving."

"Don't hang up the phone."

"I wasn't planning to. I'm just going to set it on the counter so I can have both hands on my gun."

"Okay, but don't break the connection."

"I won't."

Clayton heard the phone clack on the counter, and he pushed harder on the gas. The last few blocks flashed by, and he pulled up next to Alan's car with his tires squealing.

Alan looked up from the notes he was making and saw the look on Clayton's face. "What's wrong?"

"Palmer is Lexington."

The pen slipped from Alan's hand and rolled under the car. "He's Lexington?"

"Yes."

"He's upstairs."

"I know. Kansas called me."

They had started moving toward the building halfway through the conversation and were mounting the stairs before Alan spoke again.

"I sent him up to check on Kansas."

"Don't start slamming your head into a wall, Alan; Palmer works hard on his disguises. I would have sent him up."

They were halfway up the third flight of stairs; Kansas' apartment was three doors down the hall. Without conferring, Alan and Clayton drew their weapons in unison and set up on either side of the door.

Clayton's cell phone was in his jacket pocket, and he reached for it. "Kansas, we're outside." He hoped his yell could be heard on her phone.

"Get in here. He's moving, and I can't so well."

Alan reached for the door. "It's locked."

Clayton pulled the key from the letter out of his pocket and unlocked the door. "Go."

The door slammed open, and the two men ran in to find an exhausted Kansas holding a weapon on a semi-conscious Palmer in a mask.

"Take the mask off him." Her voice shook in relief at the sight of Clayton and Alan. "Take the mask off him."

Alan stepped forward when he realized Clayton had frozen up. Starting at the tear in the latex, he pulled the top face away to reveal Clark Palmer looking pained.

"Clark Palmer, you're under arrest for attempted murder of Kansas McWilliams and impersonating a CIA agent." Alan rattled off his rights as he cuffed Palmer and pulled him to lean against a chair. He then took Clayton's cuffs and ratcheted them around Palmer's ankles.

Kansas waited until she saw the cuffs catch before she lowered the weapon and started to slump to the floor. Her slump broke Clayton of his trance, and he moved forward to catch her before she hit the tile.

"How'd you get in?" She hadn't fainted. The fall had been the only way to take weight off her broken leg.

"Rabb dropped off your letter."

"You read it?"

He nodded and picked her up to carry her to the couch. "I love you, too."

"Glad you read it."

"I am, too." //I wouldn't have the key without it. I'll have to thank Harm."

Kansas groaned as Clayton propped up her leg. "He cut the phone lines, but he didn't think about my cell phone."

"He thought about it; he just didn't get a chance to get to it before you figured out it was him beneath the mask."

Alan walked into the living room, his cell phone to her ear, and Kansas' in his hand. He handed her phone to her and finished his conversation. "I want to see you here in five minutes."

He ended the call and looked at them. "Military police in an armored truck with extra guards are on their way to take him to Leavenworth."

"We know how well that held him last time." Kansas' sarcasm was barely noted.

"They've built a cell just for him. Everything's triple security."

She looked at Dam suspiciously. "Since when?"

"Since an hour from now." He shrugged at the incredulous look. "I can make a few requests."

"Along with AJ, Rabb, and myself." Clayton nodded to Alan. "Thanks for the idea."

"Thanks for the reassurance." Alan half-smiled. "I'm going to take Palmer and wait downstairs."

"How are you going to get him downstairs?"

"Your wheelchair and a stun gun."

"Wheelchair's in the bedroom."

"I'll get it." Clayton stood and hurried down the hall.

Kansas looked up at Alan from the couch. "What about the stun gun?"

Alan smiled mischievously. "Did I ever mention the perks of being a spy?"

*

Three minutes and a phone call to the rest of the agents in the street, and Palmer was on his way to lock-up. 

He sat in the wheelchair, unconscious from the zap from the stun gun, with four sets of handcuffs holding him in place. One set for each of his hands were looped around the arm rest of the chair to bring both cuffs up around one wrist. The same setup was done around the legs of the chair to secure Palmer's ankles to the chair.

Alan pushed the wheelchair onto the elevator and smiled to Clayton and Kansas. "We got him."

"Again." Clayton gestured to the extra agents around Alan. "Keep both of them in sight until Palmer's under lock, key, and a couple of automatic weapons."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

The elevator doors closed, and Clayton helped Kansas back into the apartment. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted." She lowered herself onto the couch and watched as Clayton settled her legs on his lap. "I awake enough to talk, though."

He sighed. "I was waiting for this."

"Good. Start talking."

"Yes, Ma'am." Clayton smiled at her softly then creased his brow in thought. "I already told you why I tried to save that girl."

"She reminded you of me."

"Yes, she did." He took a deep breath. "But another part of me wanted to do something with no underlying plan for any higher power. I wanted to do a good deed that was *just* a good deed.

I didn't think it would be as bad as it turned out. I thought I could save her. Instead I ended up held down while Patten burned my back.

"What were you thinking?" Kansas' voice was quiet.

"I was thinking it hurt like hell. I was thinking I wanted to go back to my mission, and I was thinking that I wanted you next to me." He took another deep breath. "When he started slicing my wrists open, the others assaulted the girl. Her name was Emma."

"You got information on her."

"I had to know. I've lost a whole lot of nameless people during missions, but at least they were agents. She was just a girl. No one hired her to do a suicide mission. She was walking down the street."

"How'd you stay alive?"

"They didn't think to check for a phone when they grabbed me. I dialed 911, and then passed out. The operator traced my signal and sent paramedics. Emma was dead before they got there. She led out from fourteen stab wounds and internal bleeding from the beating they gave her."

Kansas reached for Clayton's hand and squeezed it slightly. "Why haven't you talked to me before this?"

"Because I didn't want to hang this on you."

"Clayton, part of being a couple is letting me help you through stuff like this."

"I knew that, and I still know that, but I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I-I-God, I was scared, Kansas. I was scared that I would tell you then break down, and you would take off because my being scared had scared you." He looked at her with stubbornness flashing in his eyes.

"Don't look so brave, Clayton. You just told me you were scared. I'm not going to believe that face."

Clayton sighed and let the face drop. "Better?"

"Yes, Thank you."

"You're welcome. Your turn."

"When it was a nameless person that attacked me I was okay." Kansas stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Then you told me it was Palmer, and I realized that it wasn't a random attack. *That* scared me. Of course, seeing you scared didn't help. I've never seen you actually frightened, and when I did, the severity of all I'd heard about Palmer came to my mind, and I figured out how lucky I was to be alive."

"How did you know it was him?"

"When he came into the apartment, the way he talked about himself made me wonder. Every agent who's ever talked about Palmer has done se with complete disgust in their voice. Lexington talked and sounded proud. Even Palmer hasn't trained himself enough to not brag when he almost kills Clayton Webb's girlfriend."

Clayton's eyes widened slightly. "Girlfriend?"

Kansas looked at him. "What?"

"You said girlfriend."

"Yes, I did."

"Are you saying that in the sense that you were my girlfriend, or you want to try again?"

"I broke off the romantic relationship because you wouldn't talk to me about what was happening to you on the emotional level. You just talked to me about what happened, and it was painless."

"Mostly." Clayton smiled at the look of amusement on Kansas' face.

"And I'm still sitting here, and I will always be here as long as you talk to me. IF you stop talking to me, I will leave. I won't want to leave, but I won't be in a closed-off relationship."

"I don't talk easily, you know that."

"You talk easily as long as it's not personal. I know that, Clayton, and I can accept that. There's a long line between not opening up at all and opening up in stages. I can handle opening up in stages, but if you close me off, I will break it off again."

Clayton nodded as he spoke. "I'll try if you promise me something."

"What's the promise."

"Promise me that if I can protect you from something like Palmer, you'll let me." He held up a hand to stop her protest. "I'm not asking to protect you from everything, but if I can put up surveillance or walk closer to you near a dark alley, let me do it. Please."

"You can't always protect me."

" I know that, but if I can do something on the sidelines to keep you safe, I want to do it."

Kansas bit her lip in thought. "Fine. I can handle that, but if one of us pushes the other to far, we talk. Okay?"

"Okay." He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. "Are we back, again?"

Kansas tipped her chin up and kissed him. "We're back."

*One Week Later*

"How's it going?" Mac stopped at Kansas' office door.

"Palmer's till in a cell. I'm happy." Kansas stood and hopped around her desk. "I also have a date tonight."

"Where you headed?"

"The Oka." She smiled at Mac. "Clayton thinks going there is a good omen."

"Is it?"

"The food is good. Our waitress is fun. I'm not going to object." Kansas smoothed her shirtfront and adjusted her waistband. "I hate these pants. God, having them a size larger helps to keep the fabric from rubbing on my leg, but I feel like I'm drowning in them."

"You look stunning." Clayton walked into the office, nodding a hello to Mac, he handed Kansas a sunflower. "You always look stunning."

"You look fantastic, too."

"Thank you, ready to go?"

"I'm set."

Clayton slipped a hand under Kansas' free arm as she reached for her cane. "Let us exit, then. Goodnight, Mac."

"Goodnight, you two." Mac watched them leave the bullpen, and then walked to harm's office. She let herself in and leaned against his desk.

"Need something, Mac?"

"Just the twenty bucks you now owe me. Clayton and Kansas just left, no fighting, no biting, and both looking very smitten. I want to see twenty."

Harm stood up and smiled. "How about dinner, instead?"

Mac straightened up and smiled. "However you want to pay."

They left.


End file.
